Ravens Gathering (30 page)

That done, he turned to check their progress.  Tanya
had pulled a pair of lightweight trousers on.  They were white and already
streaked with blood.  Ian was handing her a sweatshirt.  Both of them
were trembling.

“Come on!” Martin urged.  “We’ve got to get out of
here!”

Tanya looked up at him, confusion on her face.  The
fact that her breasts were exposed to him didn’t seem to bother her in the
slightest.  He suspected that would have been the case regardless of the
circumstances.  If those circumstances had been somewhat different, Martin
might well have taken time to admire the view.  But embarrassment would
have made that a short time.

“What the hell just happened?”  She sounded stunned,
distant.

“I’ll explain later.  Right now, we’ve got to go. 
You can finish dressing while we’re going.”

“Where?”

He shot a look at Ian.  “Just bring her, will
you?”  The Raven was nearby.  He had to be the cause of the
destruction in the room.  Martin didn’t know how or why, but he couldn’t
think of any other explanation.  So they needed to get as far away as
possible.

It was clear that shock had hit Ian as well.  He looked
at Martin, but his gaze was unfocused, almost as if he had just woken from a
dream.  The sharpness he’d demonstrated when he’d told Martin to look away
was gone now.  His wife was still half-naked and now he was virtually oblivious
to it.

Martin stepped towards them, and gripped Ian’s left
arm.  He didn’t feel comfortable about touching Tanya.

“Now, Ian!  We haven’t got much time.”

In truth, he didn’t know how much time they had.  For
all he knew, the Raven could have already moved on, gone to cause havoc
elsewhere.  He didn’t want to bank on it, though.  There was the
chance that his connection with Claire had kicked in and the sentinels were
aware.  But he had already worked out why that wouldn’t help them. 
The Sentinels had to keep their presence hidden from the Raven.  So they
could only show themselves if he wasn’t there.  Which meant he couldn’t
rely on them riding in like the cavalry to save him at the last minute.

“Haven’t got much time for what?” Ian asked.  He didn’t
sound quite as vague as he looked.  Martin could only hope the stupor was
wearing off.

He started to pull Ian forward and gestured at his right
arm.  “Get Tanya!  We’re going!”

Ian planted his feet firmly and resisted.  “Where?” he
asked.

And from behind him, Martin heard a voice.  It sounded
strained and awkward, as if it was struggling with the language.  But that
didn’t disguise the menace that came with it.

“A very good question.  Where
are
you planning
to go?”

Collins was wedged between John Mason and Ed Croft. 
They were on the back seat in the Land Rover.  He got the impression
they’d done this before.

In the front were Adam and Claire Hawthorn.  Everyone
had been introduced politely and they were on first name terms, in spite of his
concerns when he’d seen them all coming out of the barn.  They
had
been tooled up, but any thought that they may be a potential threat to him had
been set aside as quickly as their weapons.  When they’d seen him in the
yard, Claire had told everyone to put the guns and clubs down.  Then she’d
walked forward on her own.  Her intention was clearly to reassure him, and
he’d been impressed at how smoothly she’d handled it.  Within minutes,
they were all gathered in the farmhouse kitchen, Jennifer putting the kettle on
and organising mugs.

Of course, they didn’t want to answer any of his
questions.  Not that the questions were the ones he originally intended to
ask.  Their mysterious appearance from an empty barn opened up a whole new
line of enquiries.  But everything he asked was deflected, in such a
skilful way that it took him several minutes and almost half a mug of tea
before he realised what they were doing.

They nodded politely and would respond courteously, and
sometimes at length.  But when they finished speaking, he’d realise they’d
revealed nothing.  It was artful and, frankly, impressive.  He made
small talk while he considered how to break down the politeness barrier. 
And drank more tea.

As a group, they were clearly at ease with each other in a
way that went far beyond anything Collins had experienced before.  The
fact that three of them were related might have been offered by some as a
partial explanation.  But Collins had enough understanding of family lives
to know that friction was a more common component than peace and
tranquillity.  There was an underlying tension among them, but he sensed
it was connected to some outside factors, and nothing to do with their own
relationships.  Their outward calm gave the impression of an unnatural stillness
that had the potential to give him the creeps.  Yet, strangely, didn’t.

At least it didn’t until Claire suddenly jolted upright.

It wasn’t a subtle movement.  Everyone saw it.

“What’s wrong?” Adam asked, but there was something about his
tone that suggested he already had an inkling.

“Martin.”  It was all she said, and then they were
moving, picking up their weapons as they went.

“Jennifer, you stay here,” Adam said.  It wasn’t an
order, but Collins knew
he
wouldn’t have argued.  “If we’re not
back within the hour, go to the Refuge.”  He turned to Collins.  “You
can come with us.  This might answer some of your questions.”

Collins followed them out to the yard.  He started for
his Cavalier, but Mason grabbed his arm and steered him towards the Land Rover.

“You’ll be safer with us.”

The idea that he might not be safe hadn’t been too prominent
in his mind.  He had been thinking about Martin Gates.  It hadn’t
been a massive leap to connect him with the ‘Martin’ Claire had referred
to.  The fact that he was being referred to
here
only added to the confusion he was feeling.  He knew he should be asking
questions.  He just didn’t know where to start.  And things were
moving so rapidly, he didn’t have time to sit back and consider
everything.  He liked to work in a logical manner.  True, he was
quite capable of throwing himself into action if the situation arose. 
Probably not as much as he would have done ten years ago, but he was confident
he could still handle himself.  Nevertheless, his strength was in
analysis.  He liked to gather the facts together and connect the
dots.  Right now, there seemed to be dots flung far and wide and he hadn’t
got time to work out whether any two of them might join up.

Adam drove.  They were heading towards the village.

Claire twisted in her seat to face him.  She looked
very serious.

“We haven’t got a lot of time, Inspector, so I won’t explain
everything now.  If you need to know at the end of all this, I’ll fill you
in afterwards.  Right now, we need you to trust us.”

In spite of the fact that they seemed to have appeared from
nowhere, and there was a strange quality to them that he couldn’t explain, he
couldn’t think of a reason not to trust them.  Still, he was curious.

“Why do you need me to trust you?”

“Because we need
you
to help us.”

He waited for the rest.

“We can’t be seen at
Forest Farm
.  But we think
Martin is in danger, so we need someone to go and help him.”

“Why can’t you be seen?”

“That’s what I’d need the time to explain.”

He glanced at the men on either side of him.  “Am I
going to get a choice in this?”

She smiled back at him reassuringly.  “They aren’t
there to threaten you, Inspector.  Their job is to protect you.”

They were in the village now.  The Land Rover passed
the opening that led to the farm.

“We’re going in the back way,” Claire explained, seeing the
puzzled look on his face.  “It attracts less attention.  We’ll be
there in a few minutes.  I need to know whether you’ll help or not.”

“What difference would my presence make?” Collins
asked.  “There are already soldiers up there.  Surely they’d be
better equipped to help.”

“That would be true if they knew what to expect.”

As he asked the next question, he wasn’t sure he wanted to
know the answer.  “What should they be expecting?”

Still stunned from the battering he’d taken, Ian struggled
to focus for a moment or so.  He was confused at Martin’s demand that they
leave.  In spite of having just been assaulted by the contents of his
bedroom, the very fact that it was his bedroom and therefore familiar to him
offered some comfort.

There was also something familiar about the man standing in
the doorway, though that offered no comfort at all.  And when he realised
why, he felt violated.  It wasn’t the man himself.  It was what he
was wearing.  The clothes were Ian’s.  He remembered wondering where
the jacket had gone only a day or so ago.  Now he knew.  This bastard
had been in his wardrobe and stolen it, together with the rest of the clothes
he was wearing.  Only the shoes weren’t his, and he guessed – correctly –
that the only reason for that was because the stranger’s feet were too big.

  “Who the hell are you?” he managed at last. 
Even as he spoke, he was struck by the fact that Martin hadn’t said anything
since the newcomer had arrived.  Surprising when you considered that he’d
been very vocal up to that point.

The stranger wasn’t paying attention to Ian, though. 
Instead, he was looking intently at Martin.

Ian knew the look.  It was one he’d seen before – and
probably used himself.  A look that said
I think I recognise you. 
But I’m not quite sure.

Martin had his back to Ian, so he couldn’t see whether the
expression was mirrored, or if it suggested that he recognised the
stranger.  When Martin took a couple of tentative steps backwards, Ian
thought he might have a clue.

“I know you.”  Although it was a statement, there was
still a hint of a question, as if the man was still unsure.  The wrinkled
forehead suggested that he was struggling with his memory.

In another situation, Ian might have assumed the stranger
was distracted, possibly even vulnerable.  He had no sense of that
here.  The eyes may have been on Martin, but he was aware of being
watched.  It was more a feeling than anything, but he had no doubt that if
he made a move of any description, the man would take it all in – probably even
anticipate it.

And there was menace there as well.  If he did
anticipate a wrong move, he would intercept it with violence.  The eyes
were dark and cold, bereft of emotion.  There would be no compassion. 
He would do what was necessary, regardless of the consequences for others.

The world Ian had thrived in could be cut-throat at
times.  But all that was at stake in business was money and
reputation.  No one got physically hurt.  This man was capable of
going well beyond hurting people.  Ian recalled the description he’d been
given of what had happened to the Payne’s dog.  At times over the last day
or two, he’d wondered whether Martin had been responsible.  Not any
more.  The cause of the
labrador’s
death had
been pure evil.  And pure evil was standing in the bedroom doorway now.

“You’re a Gates.”  He smiled and nodded to himself as
the connections were finally made.  If there was any humour there, it was
unquestionably dark.  “How are your parents?”  The question was laced
with malice.

Ian had to raise his hand to stop Martin walking back into
him.

A mocking smile acknowledged the effect he was having on
them.  His eyes shifted and looked over Martin’s shoulder.  Ian
realised he was looking at Tanya.

“Brazen,” he commented.  His eyes slid back to
Martin.  “Just like your mother.”

There was a tension in Martin’s shoulders.  Ian
recognised it because he was feeling it himself.  An outraged anger at
having a loved one spoken of in those terms, mixed with a sense of helplessness
because you know the stranger has all the power.

Instinctively, he reached out to put his arm around Tanya.

“Fool.”  The stranger let the word hang in the air for
a moment.  “You want to protect her, and yet she has done nothing but
betray you.”

He felt Tanya tense under his arm.  But this wasn’t
anger or outrage.  His stomach suddenly felt hollow, an aching void, as he
realised why.  He was aware of her looking at him, but he bowed his
head.  He didn’t want to see the guilt in her eyes, and he didn’t want to
see the triumphant mockery on that creature’s face.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, he tried to reason with
himself.  He had suspected it for long enough.  That didn’t make the
pain any easier though.  Her semi-nakedness made matters worse, of
course.  She still hadn’t pulled the sweatshirt on.  He knew that
she, like him, had been frozen by the appearance of the man in the
doorway.  So it wasn’t that she was deliberately flaunting herself.
 He knew that.  But it was still maddening to think that the slut was
showing her breasts off like that.  Far from wanting to comfort her, right
now he could have happily slapped her.

Which brought him up short.  He’d never felt like
that.  No matter how angry he was about anything she’d done, not once had
he been inclined to lash out physically.  Verbally, yes, but even that had
been pretty low-key in the grand scheme of things.  Right now, though, he
could cheerfully throttle her.

Even as the thought passed through his head, he snatched his
arm away from her.  The urge had been almost overpowering.  It would
have been so easy then to slip his hands around her throat, and pay her back
for all the times she’d been unfaithful.  All the times she’d worked late,
or stopped over at a conference, or been out with “the girls”.  The lying
bitch!  And he’d known it all along.  Deep down, he’d known she was
cheating on him, whoring around, laughing at him for being such a mug...

“You are right to be thinking that,” the stranger
said.  “She has used you.  She deserves to pay for what she has
done.”  He spoke firmly, evenly.  His diction was wooden, like a
foreigner trying to get to grips with the language.  But the words were
compelling, pushing him.

Ironically, they also brought Ian to his senses. 
Keeping his eyes fixed on the pieces of shattered glass in the carpet between
his feet, he began to breathe deeply.  Slowly, he began to refocus. 
He knew Tanya’s infidelity was real.  He knew she had betrayed him
sexually, and probably in other ways too.  He also knew in his heart that
their marriage had been over a long time ago.  The truth was that he had
fought that, pretended to himself that everything was all right, or that even
if it wasn’t all right now, he could make it all right.  But it wasn’t, and
it never would be.  So they had to move on with their lives.  Causing
her physical pain wasn’t going to solve that.  Feeling those urges had
been alien to him.  He hadn’t understood why he felt that way, though he
had been willing to give in to the compulsion.  Then the stranger had
spoken and he’d realised where those impulses had come from.

Clenching his fists, he looked at the sneering face across
the room.

“You might as well give in to it.  If you do not, I
will do it for you.”

“No you fucking won’t!”  Ian leapt forward, shoving
Martin aside.  The distance to the doorway was a little over ten feet
away.  Around three paces.  He managed only one before he was lifted
up and thrown backwards.  The chest of drawers behind him stood about
waist high.  He cleared it, smashing into the wall and the edge of the
window frame, the impact jarring his whole body.  His head snapped back
against the wall and he slumped, sliding sideways off the top of the chest and
landing in an untidy heap on the floor.

He could feel consciousness slipping away.  The sounds
from the rest of the room were growing distant.  Fingers stroked his face,
a hand gripped his arm.  They felt light, feminine.  He was glad
she’d come to tend him.  She may not have been the best wife a man could
have, but he knew there was goodness inside her.

“Do not bother with him.”  The voice sounded as if it
was in another room.  “He will be dead soon enough.  As will you
be.”  There was a pause, a slight shift.  Ian thought it was because
he was slipping deeper into unconsciousness, then realised the stranger must
have turned his attention to Martin.  “As will your family, Mr
Gates.”  Darkness overcame Ian.  The last words he heard were:
“Tonight we will finish what we started.”